


I Hate Bullies

by archangelwithashotgun



Series: Sabriel School!Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Gabriel is a Good Friend, Gabriel is a Novak, High School AU, Human Gabriel, M/M, Protective Gabriel, Sam gets bullied, Teenage!Gabriel, Teenage!Sam, Writer!Sam, tw: bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by tricky_archangel’s prompt: Sam is lanky and nerdy so he gets bullied a lot. Gabe has a crush on him so he plays pranks on all the bullies as a way to gain Sam’s attention.</p>
<p>Sam is used to being bullied at school. He's never let it bother him before. But then salvation came in the form of a pranking, candy-loving upperclassman named Gabriel.</p>
<p>TW: Bullying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate Bullies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by tricky_archangel’s prompt: Sam is lanky and nerdy so he gets bullied a lot. Gabe has a crush on him so he plays pranks on all the bullies as a way to gain Sam’s attention.
> 
> Sam, Castiel, and Brady are sophomores. Gabriel is a junior, and so are Crowley and Azz.

Teeth bit down on a bottom lip, harsh enough to hurt, as Sam Winchester bent down and began to gather his fallen belongings. Well, not so much _fallen_ as knocked out of his hands by the infamously extravagant Fergus “Crowley” MacLeod, grade-A douche and well-known bully of Truman High.

Sam hadn’t exactly known what it was about himself that drew Crowley’s attention, but once he had it, there was no shaking him off. He and his minions, two jocks by the names of Brady and Azz, were always finding some way to make his days at high school a living hell. He’s been pushed against and shoved into lockers, had his homework destroyed, was hazed in the boys’ locker room, and has had pretty much any and every cliché form of abuse from his tormentors happen to him.

In a word, it sucked.

Dean had already graduated and moved on to the community college, and Sam wasn’t about to bother him with something as petty as bullies with an attention-deficit. It was hell, for sure, but nothing Sam couldn’t handle.

Sam exhaled slowly as he dropped to his knees and grabbed his copy of _Paradise Lost_ , sliding it into his back bag. He reached over to grab his pencil case, and flinched in bewilderment when a hand suddenly appeared in his line of vision and grabbed it instead.

Tensing his shoulders, he raised his eyes, expecting to see Crowley or Azz. He furrowed his brows as he noticed it was neither; instead, an upperclassmen, one he had seen milling around the hallways before, with golden hair and amber eyes was standing before him. And he was offering the pencil case.

“Here you go, kiddo,” he said with a friendly smile.

Hesitantly, Sam reached over and retrieved it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes to the ground. He placed the case in his bag and gathered his wayward pencils and pens. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the boy hadn’t left. In fact, he was currently kneeling beside him, carefully picking up the notes that had fallen out of his folder and stacking them neatly.

“What’s your name, man?” the boy asked, his tone curious. Sam lifted his gaze and the boy offered the stack of notes. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked before.”

He was reluctant to give the boy his name at first, but mentally shrugged it off. The boy was being nice now, and what was the harm in him knowing his name? And there was something familiar about this boy, like he knew him from somewhere else other than just random appearances in the hallways.

“It’s Sam,” he answered, grabbing the notes.

The boy beamed. “Well, Sam. Nice to meet ya. I’m Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s smile was so genuine and disarming, and Sam found himself relaxing as his lips threatened to quirk into a responding grin.

At that moment, the two minute bell rang out a warning, and Sam internally deflated.

“Well, uh, thanks. But I gotta get going; class is on the other side of this building and I can’t let Crowley be the reason I’m late,” he said, placing his notes into his bag and zipping it shut.

“Crowley?” Gabriel frowned. Sam stood up, slinging a strap over his shoulder. Gabriel stood up as well, and Sam noticed that the upperclassman was only an inch or two taller than him. “That’s who did this?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, and his two goons. I try not to let it bother me a lot.”

“They do things like this a lot?”

Again, Sam shrugged, weakly smiling.

“Yeah, well,” Sam muttered, ducking his head. He began to trek slowly away from Gabriel, indicating an end to the conversation. “Thanks again, Gabriel.”

He got a single nod in return, Gabriel’s forehead creased contemplatively.

::

He saw more of Gabriel after that first encounter.

The first time he saw him after that day, Gabriel was leaning against the pillar outside the cafeteria, cheek bulged with a lollipop, and Sam was heading to homeroom. Sam had tilted the side of his mouth up into a half-smile, more nervous-grimace than anything; he didn’t know if Gabriel’s friendliness had been a fluke and didn’t want to appear overeager.

But Gabriel had met his eyes across the hallway, took out the cherry lollipop from his mouth, and _grinned_. Nothing mischievous, nothing malicious. A true, genuinely kind smile. For _Sam_.

It was enough to keep his spirits up for the rest of the day, even as Crowley and Brady cornered him in the first floor bathroom at the end of the day.

After that, Sam saw Gabriel more and more throughout the day, a beacon of light in even the darkest of days at Truman. At first, Sam believed that his hyperawareness to Gabriel was just that he had now placed a name to the face, and this meant that Sam noticed his presence quickly and more often.

But a few weeks following their first meeting, Sam began noticing something else: as the attention he received from Gabriel grew, the attention he received from Crowley and Brady and Azz declined.

Not only that, but yesterday Crowley had shown up with a baseball cap shoved far down on his head, and was revealed to be _bald_ when Lewis the Security Guard ordered him to take it off. And Brady began fidgeting in history, trying and failing to scratch discreetly at his nether regions, prompting Mr. Henrickson into writing up a referral for inappropriate classroom conduct.

Huh.

Not that he was complaining, but he thought that it could hardly be coincidence.

He brought up this vague observation to the only other friend he had at Truman.

“Oh, so you’ve met my brother, then,” Castiel said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder.

Sam stared. “Gabriel’s your brother?”

“Yes, I have four older brothers,” Castiel affirmed. “Luce and Michael are twins, and they’re in juniors in college at the moment. Raphael is a freshman like your brother, and Gabriel is a junior here.”

“Wow,” Sam answered, baffled that he hadn’t made the connection. He _knew_ that he recognized Gabriel from somewhere else. Probably from whenever Castiel would get picked up from school; Gabriel was likely one of the drivers. Or whenever Sam would go over to Castiel’s home to work on homework together; he may had seen Gabriel in the spilt second he could have passed by Castiel’s room.

“And I suspect, given Gabriel’s… trickster tendencies, that perhaps he has had a hand in whatever is happening to Crowley and the others,” Castiel added, looking up at Sam.

“He’s a prankster?” Sam asked, lowering his brows.

“He does enjoy his jokes,” Castiel nodded, his voice reflecting exasperated fondness for his absent sibling. “But even if Gabriel were behind Crowley and Brady’s, uh, misfortunes… why do you care, Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I only met him a few weeks ago after Crowley knocked stuff out of my hands. He helped me, and then asked me if this happened often. I only told him the truth.”

“And that is?”

“That they do,” Sam answered. He frowned. “Should I not have…?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “No… But I suspect that it may have played a role in what caused Gabriel to go after them. Gabriel usually does harmless pranks, things that are funny for both parties. But this? This looks more like vengeance.”

Sam tried to shove down the warm flutter he felt at the implication of those words.

::

It was the day after his conversation with Castiel, and Sam was sitting alone at his usual end of the table for lunch. He was finishing his current bite of ham peanut-butter and banana sandwich when another tray clattered lightly on the table surface before him. He jumped minutely, startled, and raised his eyes.

Gabriel grinned at him. “Hey, kiddo. Long time, no talk. Mind if I sit?”

The tension in Sam’s posture lessened considerably, and he smiled easily. “Feel free.”

Gabriel’s grin widened as he chuckled, and he proceeded to do just that, bringing forth his tray of cafeteria lunch food. He scowled unhappily at it, picking up the spork and prodding carefully at the string beans.

“This is the shittiest food on the planet,” he grumbled. “And I’ve had to live with my brothers’ cooking for years.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “That’s why I bring my own source of nourishment,” he said, holding up his sandwich as an example.

Gabriel’s scowl only deepened. “Shameful. _Healthy food_. What’s a world where a child can’t buy as many chocolate-chip cookies as he wants?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. Gabriel smirked and, despite his lamentations of the food, began to eat.

A comfortable silence settled over the two boys, but Sam was internally fidgeting with questions. After a few minutes, Gabriel quirked his brow at him, chewing lightly at his boxed pizza.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” he asked, voice thick as he spoke around the bite.

Sam pursed his lips together. “Your brother tells me you’re quite the prankster.”

Gabriel looked like he wasn’t quite expecting that; his eyes got a little bigger, and he stopped chewing. But at the implication of Castiel the amber pools of his irises suddenly glimmered with affection.

“Did he now?” he questioned cheerfully. “Aw. Cas is always highlighting my best assets.”

Sam nodded, pausing momentarily. “… Were you the one responsible for Crowley and Brady?”

To Sam’s surprise, Gabriel showed no reluctance in responding. He immediately nodded his affirmation, eyes twinkling in promising mischief. “Yup. A little Nair here, a little itching powder there. Azz may find something unpleasant in his locker later, too.”

(Sam found out later that it was an exploding airbag, and that it was filled with dog shit. How Gabriel managed to rig it, and how he managed to find that much dog shit, remained a mystery to Sam.)

There was a war going on inside of Sam, a sense of confusion flooding him while an equal force of joy left him breathless. He didn’t understand Gabriel’s motive, or if he even had one. Castiel said that Gabriel only played harmless pranks, funny pranks. There had to be a reason why he would suddenly up the ante and twist his ideals around.

“Why?”

It was the quickest way Sam could think of to ask.

Gabriel regarded his words thoughtfully, finishing off the mouthful of burger in his mouth. After he swallowed it, he placed the burger down on the Styrofoam plate on his tray, observing Sam. Sam watched carefully, fighting back a blush at being stared at so intensely.

“I hate bullies,” Gabriel finally said, picking up his milk and taking a large swig from it.

Sam nodded, knowing that was the best answer he’d get for the moment.

They spent the rest of the lunch hour conversing and getting to know each other a litter better. Besides being Castiel’s older brother, Sam learned that Gabriel was part of the school’s drama club, that his favorite candy was chocolate mousse, and that he enjoyed playing his guitar during his free time.

Sam, in turn, felt that he didn’t offer as much in regards to interest.

“I don’t really do much outside of schoolwork,” Sam admitted when Gabriel asked. “Uh, I’m on the school soccer team, umm, I sometimes write creative fiction stories and—“

“You write?” Gabriel asked, brightening up. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah, sometimes,” Sam replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Gabriel exclaimed, grinning. “I’d like to read some of it.”

Sam huffed out an amused breath, unable to fathom why he was seriously about to say –

“Yeah. That’d be great.”

Gabriel’s beaming face filled even further with happiness, and Sam quickly reasoned with himself that it was worth all the potential embarrassment just to see that look on someone’s face, on _Gabriel’s_ face.

In retrospect, that was probably the moment Sam Winchester realized that he was screwed for life.

::

A couple weeks went by, and Sam and Gabriel became closer than ever.

Gabriel showed up to Sam’s lunch table every day, always armed with a new story about school or his brothers that never failed to leave Sam in stitches.

And after a few days of this, when he felt comfortable enough, Sam showed up one lunch with a notebook filled partially with his writings. He had pushed it across the table nervously, and Gabriel gently took it.

“Thanks, Sam,” the older boy had said sincerely.

Sam had merely half-smiled, half-grimaced, and they left it at that, Gabriel tucking the notebook carefully into his book bag.

Gabriel had shown up the next day, practically bursting at the seams.

“ _Dude_!” he breathed out, sliding into his seat. “These are _incredible_.”

Sam blinked. “W-What? Really?”

“Hells yeah!” Gabriel gushed, flipping through the notebook. “They were _so good_! Why haven’t you gotten them published or something?”

Sam, still shocked, cocked his head in a minor shrug. “I just… never thought my writing to be any good.”

“You’re kidding!” Gabriel said, eyes snapping up to lock onto Sam’s face with a ferocious glare, though at the same time making it clear that it was Sam’s words and not Sam himself that was the cause of the agitation. “Kiddo, writing like this… It doesn’t deserve to be kept away in a notebook. It’s gotta find its way into the _world_. This kind of writing is what makes authors like J.K. _Rowling_. Sammy, baby, don’t you wanna be like J.K. Rowling?”

Sam heavily restrained giggling at the honest desperation leaking from Gabriel’s words, and the delightful warmth at being called _baby_. “Sure, of course I do, Gabriel.”

“Then what’s stopping you?!”

Sam pressed his lips together, considering. “You know… You’re right. You’re always right.”

“… Can I get _that_ in writing?” Gabriel asked, leaning back in his seat, his wide eyes narrowing back down into his usual playfulness. “I’ve been trying to tell everyone that for _ages_. No one’s believed me.”

“Shut it,” Sam said, tossing a fry at his friend, unable to stop the following bark of laughter that erupted from his throat when Gabriel attempted to catch it in his mouth and instead got nailed on the nose.

In a word, it was nice. Good. Amazing.

And then it went bad.

::

Sam knew it was too good to be true, that Crowley and his followers would just leave him alone simply because the school trickster had played a few humiliating, though admittedly hilarious, jokes on them.

And he knew it was too much to ask for that Crowley find someone else other than him to blame.

But of course, because he was Sam, and because Winchester luck never worked in his favor, that’s exactly what happened.

It was right before soccer practice, and Sam was the last member of the team to arrive in the locker room, late from staying after class to talk to his chemistry teacher about an upcoming project. He jogged to the locker rooms, back bag swinging, and sighed as he found it empty. He relished in the solitude, and in the lack of teammates and body heat and smell of sweat. Sam quickly opened his locker and put down his back bag, yanking off his flannel shirt and white undershirt and sliding on his uniform top.

He had just smoothed down his uniform top past his stomach when he was suddenly shoved forward, his right temple catching sharply on the edge of the steel locker door.

Disoriented, blinking back painful tears, the area where he had been struck flaring cold, he blinked up at his attacker.

“So,” Crowley said, his English accent drawling out smugly. “All alone, are you? No sign of that boyfriend of yours to come and save you, eh Winchester?”

Sam said nothing, closing his eyes tight and pressing the heel of his hand to his likely bleeding wound.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sam felt a fist clench tightly around his hair, yanking his face up and forcing him to open his eyes. “See now, Samuel, that… boyfriend of yours, that Gabriel Novak… he hasn’t been acting very nice lately.”

“Neither have you,” Sam hissed, managing to narrow his eyes defiantly past the pain. “Sounds like you’ve got something in common, huh _Fergus_?”

Crowley snarled, his fingers tightening harshly, hard enough for the strands of Sam’s hair to agonize his skull. Sam pressed his lips together, swallowing back a whimper.

“He _humiliated_ me,” Crowley growled. “And for what? Because he wanted to protect a stain such as yourself?”

His fist tightened even more, and this time Sam could feel a few strands of hair separate from his head, leaving behind a fierce sting.

“Well,” Crowley whispered, leaning in close. Sam grimaced at the foul breath tinted with cigarette smoke. “He’s not here to protect you now.”

That was all he said before he threw Sam to the ground, deliberately ensuring that Sam’s head smacked upon the cement floor with an audible crack. Sam couldn’t help the echoing yelp that escaped him, or the following grunt as Crowley’s boot made contact with his left side. He barely had time to recover from that before Crowley once again aimed a kick, but this time toward Sam’s chest. Sam’s mouth snapped open but no sound came out except a pathetic wheeze.

Dizzy from the blow to the head and drunk from the pain of Crowley’s feet and fists raining down on him, Sam could only curl up into himself, hands covering as much of his head and face as he could while the furious onslaught continued.

_Oh my God, he’s going to kill me. Crowley’s actually going to kill me. This is it. I’m going to die here, murdered by this absolute pile of shit, and left to rot in the boy’s locker room. I’m going to die, oh my God, I’m going to –_

And quick as the attack began, it was over.

Panting, heart pounding with punching throbs throughout his body, Sam slowly became aware of a scuffle. Another fight. Was someone else here?

Then he realized, as he opened a bruised eye, that it was Crowley in that fight.

And that the other boy was Gabriel.

Gabriel, who was beating the absolute _shit_ out of Crowley.

Gabriel was snarling whispered words to Crowley, and Sam couldn’t make out any of it from where he lay battered a few feet away. He could only blink up at the scene as Gabriel sent a well-aimed right hook to Crowley’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Crowley hardly had time to groan before Gabriel yanked him up by his shoulders, only to send a kick right to Crowley’s ass to launch him toward the exit.

“ _Get the fuck out of here_!” Gabriel growled threateningly, amber eyes a molten gold as they glared and spit fire furiously at the other boy. Probably the only smart decision he made today, Crowley actually listened, scrambling out of the locker rooms with a noticeable limp.

Gabriel watched him go, breathing heavily as he continued to seethe.

Sam’s eyes fluttered, and he tried to lift himself up, opening his mouth to call out Gabriel’s name.

A whimper escaped instead.

Instantly, Gabriel’s eyes were on him, and they quickly lost that flaming anger. They softened back down, concern pinched into Gabriel’s face.

“Oh, Sammy,” Gabriel whispered, striding forward to help Sam up. “ _Jesus_ … Are you alright? Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” Sam bit out, teeth grating at the flare up on his left side. “Yeah, I think I can walk. Just – Just pretty sore.”

Gabriel scoffed, fingers trailing tenderly across Sam’s face. “Might be more than just pretty sore, kiddo.”

“Alright, _really_ pretty sore,” Sam answered, a careful smile pulling at his split lip.

The attempt at a light-hearted banter was not lost on Gabriel, and he allowed a small grin to appear on his face. “There’s the smartass I know,” he muttered, tapping Sam’s nose.

A weak chuckle vibrated through Sam’s throat, prompting a series of coughs, which led to Sam nearly doubling over in pain from the havoc it caused on his ribs.

“Alright, Samsquatch,” Gabriel said, firmly placing one of Sam’s arms around his shoulders, placing one of his own arms securely around Sam’s waist. “Gotta get you to Nurse Mills.”

The school nurse was always available after hours for sports, along with the physical trainer. Sam wasn’t quite warming up to the idea of going to the nurse’s office, but knew that arguing against Gabriel was a pointless.

“My stuff,” Sam protested tiredly, gesturing toward his still open locker.

“I’ll get it once you’re at the nurse’s office, c’mon,” Gabriel insisted, leading him out.

And despite everything that had just happened, Sam was unable to feel anything other than safe in Gabriel’s grip, and he succumbed.

::

“Why did you do that?” Sam asked quietly.

They were sitting outside in Gabriel’s car. Nurse Mills had fussed over Sam’s injuries, muttering viciously under her breath about “ _boys_ ” and “ _think they can solve their problems by picking on others, ridiculous_ ,” which secretly made Sam smile. Thankfully, nothing appeared to be broken or sprained or cracked, but Sam was going to deal with some nasty bruises on his face and abdomen. The only problem was the possibility of a concussion, but miraculous Sam didn’t have one.

Afterwards, Gabriel retrieved Sam’s belongings and practically dragged him, as safely as he could without further injuring him, to the office with the intent on filing a report on Crowley. Security was kind enough to oblige, especially after seeing the extent of Sam’s injuries, and Sam was able to file a report on what occurred, followed by Gabriel’s own account.

Gabriel was questioned extensively about his involvement in the fight, seeing as how the main issues appeared to be between Sam and Crowley. Sam was quick to vouch for his friend, telling security that Crowley had been out of control and was hurting him, and that Gabriel had only stepped in to protect him. That, along with Gabriel’s friendly demeanor among the staff (and it certainly helped that Gabriel was well-liked by Principle Singer as well), was enough for security to reassure Sam that Gabriel would not get into any trouble, and that Crowley would be punished accordingly.

Which led them to where they were now.

Gabriel turned to look at him from the driver’s seat, absently turning the key in the ignition.

“Do what? Kick the pompous ass’s _ass_?” Gabriel questioned, smirk tinting his lips at the small joke.

“Yeah, that,” Sam nodded. “But you didn’t have to, y’know? Just like you didn’t have to prank him or Brady or Azz before this. But you did. So… why go out of your way to protect me?”

Gabriel was silent, fixing him what that look from weeks ago, that contemplative stare as he regarded Sam carefully. His face was smooth, and his golden eyes were gentle. And like last time, Sam was struck with the urge to blush from the attention, because now he noticed there was something _more_ there, something deeper than what Gabriel had previously let on –

And then Gabriel was slowly leaning over the cupholders between their seats, and kissing the corner of Sam’s mouth.

His lips were soft and ginger, lingering enough near Sam’s mouth that made the younger boy _ache_ with the want of a _real_ kiss, of feeling that gentle curve of Gabriel’s mouth upon his own.

And then it was over, and Gabriel was sitting back in his own seat, watching him.

Sam released a shaky exhale, vaguely noting that he had been holding his breath during the kiss and that his heart was beating wildly in his throat as he stared with Gabriel, completely awed.

Gabriel smiled softly, briefly looking toward the dashboard as he put the car into drive.

“I hate bullies,” Gabriel said gruffly, verbatim to what he said in the cafeteria weeks ago. Then he turned to Sam, that enamoring smile still on his face. “And I like you. That’s why.”

And Sam was perfectly okay with that answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. This kinda got away from me. I really did not expect to write that much, but hey! Here it is.
> 
> Did you guys catch any of the references I included in here? There’s lot pertaining to earlier seasons of SPN, as well as one from Men At Work. Can you spot them? Cookies to whoever can!


End file.
